A Bond of Courage
by infinitivelyMelodic
Summary: During a ride, Elizaveta recollects a previous riding accident which not only injured herself, but her previous mount.  Oneshot with a bit of Frying Pangle hints. First story- reviews and crits most welcome.


_Hey guys, this is my first story, and I do realize it's kinda long for a one-shot, but whatever. ^^ Anyways, I spent a while on this, unlike most of my other ideas, so any constructive crits or help to improve is always welcome. :3  
><em>

_I don't own any of the characters used here~ c: Sáv and Hiú are random creations of mine, apart of my headcanon that is.^^_

_Thanks for reading! _

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><p>It came up out of nowhere; a huge moss-covered log left to rot on the clearing floor. Its diameter was enormous with a superior length to boot. The amount of foliage growing on and around it suggested that the giant tree had fallen long, long ago.<p>

I never quite figured out how I hadn't noticed it before. Though less frequented as my normal riding paths, I still had been to this clearing a few times in the past. Deciding that matter wasn't of great importance, I shrugged it off, concluding that I must have been racing too fast in previous visits to actually notice it.

My eyes lingered upon the fallen tree, wanting. It was a rare to find such a perfect opportunity, for myself, that is. As much as I love galloping through the rolling meadows and clearings, nothing can compare to the sensation of leaping over obstacles upon a horse.

I wanted to experience that feeling again, oh I longed for it, but something made me pause and hesitate. I glanced downwards, reminding myself of the unfamiliar mount I had taken out with me today. He, for it was a stallion, had begun to show signs of unrest by tugging at the reins in my hand and biting at the bit in his mouth.

I sighed and loosened my reins slightly, allowing him to extend his neck and nibble at the wild grasses at his feet. Until recently, I rode a different horse during my frequent rides. He had been a beautiful, dark bay Hungarian Warmblood I had trained myself since he was weaned. I named him Sáv, or 'streak', in my native language for the white streak that ran down his nose.

Many years Sáv and I galloped to our hearts content out in the countryside. Away from people, away from politics, away from civilization-it was the only time I felt free. It's a beautiful thing really, when man and horse are one. They blend together into the horizon, indistinguishable from when beast starts and human ends. The awesome power of unison often leaves one in marvel.

Then about last month, I made a reckless decision; one that would cost me dearly.

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><p>A huge storm had passed over not quite so long before, and I felt ready for ride in the clear post-rain air. Sáv was hesitant as I led him out into the stable yard. He pawed at the ground, as if to point out the endless sea of muck; a result of the storm.<p>

I laughed and stroked his velvety muzzle, "Oh, Sáv, you're not scared of some simple mud, are you? We've done this hundreds of times before, now come on!"

His deep amber eyes expressed a concerned look, but knowing there was no way of changing my mind, obeyed nonetheless.

I placed my worn boot into the left stirrup, and swung myself over his broad, sturdy back. I settled into the saddle, an old huntseat I had used for as long as I could remember. The leather was soft, and comfortable, fitting perfectly to my form. It was very unlike the stiff, black dressage saddle Roderich asked me to use occasionally.

I gathered my reins and nudged Sáv into a brisk trot out of the yard and onto the road. The mud sloshed and gurgled under Sáv's massive hooves, serving as a reminder of the potential hazard I was in. Not that I was afraid, not in the least.

Off in the distance, large, ominous clouds were gathering. The air was still and I could not determine the direction of the way the wind was blowing. Nevertheless, the impending storm could not ruin my ride. I would not back down.

With a sense of determination, I seized my reins and gave Sáv a hearty kick to his girth and we were off. My hair whipped in stinging blows across my cheeks, blown by the icy wind that chilled my bones. Sáv was going fast, yes, but I knew he wasn't giving it his all, not yet.

I pushed my hands further up his neck, matting them in the dark chocolate mane. I released a great portion of the reins, and gave Sáv his head. Only the slightest encouragement was enough for the stallion to push himself over the limit.

In essence, we were flying. Faster…faster… All other thoughts melted away, and were replaced by the rhythmic beating of Sáv's hooves over the soft, we earth. One, two, there, four, one, two, three, four, the beat went on. It was similar to, to, what did Roderich call it again? A time signature? Yes, that was it.

The thought of Roderich snapped me back into reality. He certainly wouldn't approve of my questionable outing today. Not that he really ever approved. There were always the excuses, I could fall off and kill myself, a wild animal could attack me, and I could loose control of Sáv, and lots more.

The only thing we could agree on was dressage. I was never terribly good at it, but Roderich was. He showed me the Spanish Riding School and the Lipizzans that resided there. It was all so beautiful and noble, especially the Airs-Above-Ground.

Roderich proudly demonstrated the routine flawlessly. Of course, being the representative of his country, he would naturally know a thing or two. He promised he would teach me as well.

"It will take some time to learn, and you'll have to be focused and committed. Do you think you can do that for me?" he had asked. I nodded eagerly, more than excited to learn. "Very well. I'll, see you tomorrow in the ring, eight o'clock sharp," he added, and then retreated back to his study.

Afterwards, Roderich did start to teach me, but only a little at a time. I tried to be patient, but poor Sáv was completely bored. He tried, he really did. Unfortunately, his form lacked the conformity and he despised groundwork. There was a particular lesson that stuck out in my mind, but my thought was suddenly interrupted by what came over the horizon line.

A large boulder, possibly eroded away by the storm, now sat in the middle of the road and we were headed straight for it. Instinctively, I pressed by right heel to Sáv's side as hard as I could and yanked the reins in the same direction, praying he could make the sudden swerve.

Unable to stop himself, Sáv responded to my pleas and threw himself into the lunge, avoiding the boulder by a few mere inches. However, unbeknownst to myself, the ground surrounding the boulder was extremely muddy and slick.

In what seemed like slow motion, Sáv took a misstep, tripped, and plunged down, onto the unforgiving earth. I was thrown over his neck in a burst of motion and landed hard, off to the side. The only thing I can remember before I passed out from the pain was the gut-wrenching sound of bones snapping; bones that were not mine.

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><p>After what seemed like forever, I finally woke and regained conciousness. There was a dull, throbbing pain in the rear of my skull, and the right side of my cheek stung from a deep cut. Somewhat dazed, it took me several minutes to process the rest my surroundings.<p>

The clouds I had seen earlier had now progressed into a full-on storm, complete with endless pouring rain accompanied by distant rolls of thunder. I was thoroughly soaked, but that was the least of my worries. I frantically searched the area, and gasped when my eyes lay upon Sáv's motionless form.

Even though the pain coursing through my body was great, I somehow managed to drag myself closer to Sáv. He was alive, that I could tell from the slow rise and fall of his chest, but badly injured. I didn't need to look, but I knew deep in my heart that his left fore leg was broken. Just the way he had been laying could show me that.

He didn't stir when heaped myself even closer to him and burrowed my mud-covered face into his wet mane. This would be our last moments together, I knew. Horse legs are fragile things. Once they are broken, there is little chance they can be fixed.

I can't tell you how long I stayed by Sáv's side, but it wasn't enough. After what seemed like mere minutes, I heard the sound of dull hooves beating against the wet earth. In the thick sheets of rain, I made out the outline of a tall figure leaping off of a sturdy draft.

"Elizaveta! What happened? Roderich sent me when you didn't come back!" the distressed voice called out to me. I instantly recognized it as the voice Gilbert and a wave of relief flooded over me. For a moment I tried to believe we could both make it out. He knelt down hurriedly, looking for signs of injury on my body.

"Y-you're soaked to the bone, Eliza," Gilbert managed, pushing my hair out of my eyes, "and you're face is covered in mud and," His voice cut off at the sight of the gash on my cheek. "That's going to leave a scar on your beautiful face, mein Gott what did you do?"

I shivered and Gilbert pressed me against his chest, his coat equally soaked, but his touch reassuring. It was difficult to speak, but I mustered up enough strength to whisper softly, "Sáv… Sáv…must…help him…."

Gilbert looked over my shoulder to Sáv's fallen form. He set me down gently, wrapping his heavy coat around my shoulders. Silently turning his attention to the horse before him, Gilbert let his hands lightly run down the stallion's twisted leg, stopping at the point of the injury.

There was a small sigh before Gilbert turned back toward me, his eyes downcast. Without even saying a word, I accepted that there was nothing that could be done for my dear friend.

Gilbert stood, facing away from me. "Liza, you realize what I'll have to do right?" he asked of me, bluntly. I needn't question what he referred to; the long, pointed object affixed to the draft's saddle was enough for me to know.

"W-wait…" I spoke, grasping the coat around my shoulders, "At least let me say goodbye, please?"

He nodded and I hobbled once again to my fallen comrade. Sáv was breathing slowly and deeply, acting like he already knew his fate. I stroked the white streak down his handsome, long nose for the last time, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

I knew my time must be short, but before I stood, I leaned down and kissed his velvety muzzle; my final farewell.

Gilbert again, came to my side, only this time carefully tucking his right arm underneath my legs and bracing my back with his left, he carefully swooped me up and carried me to the awaiting stallion, standing solemnly in the downpour.

Cautiously, he placed me just behind of the deep saddle before mounting himself. Gilbert then silently grasped his good hunting rifle, and remorsefully cocked his arm to aim. I can only remember burying my face into his back; my arms wound tightly around his waist when I heard the crack of the firing gun.

The shriek of pain that followed is something I will never, ever forget.

Swiftly, Gilbert spun his stallion around and sped us off in the opposite direction. I recall the poor beast almost slipped numerous times, but Gilbert forced him onwards. The unforgiving weather beat down mercilessly upon us, but nothing would slow his urgency.

I remember when we stampeded into the stable yard in the dead of night. Gilbert promptly dismounted, carefully removed me from my perch, and threw the reins at the young stable boy. Carrying me bridal style, he rushed from the yard to the large doors of Roderich's house.

A maid greeted us in the foyer, but Gilbert ignored her and ran towards the drawing room where an anxious Roderich sat waiting. Gilbert pushed open the door with his foot, then strode in briskly, slightly arrogant in the presence of his rival.

"Don't just sit there!" Gilbert shouted at him, astounded by Roderich's lack of action, "She needs help now!"

Roderich quickly assembled together numerous blankets and called for someone to fetch warm water as Gilbert placed me on one of the chaise lounges in the brightly lit room. Taking a blanket from Roderich, Gilbert removed his coat from my shoulders and draped the blanket over them instead.

"This will help you feel warmer," he justified, albeit somewhat awkwardly. I nodded, trying to stay conscious, and pulled the thick fabric around me tighter.

After receiving a small pitcher of steaming water accompanied some basic first aid items, Roderich knelt before me and tried his best to clean the gash across my cheek. I remember how much it stung and how my face twisted in pain, only to be soothed by gentle words from Roderich and subtle stroking of my shoulders by Gilbert, who had mutely sat beside me.

When Roderich finished, he carefully bandaged the wound, trying not to cause me any more pain. He placed the back of his bare hand across my forehead and frowned. "She's running a fever, but I believe I can handle it from here. You may go," he said dismissively, directed at Gilbert.

Gilbert glared at him, almost ready to burst. "No," he said firmly, "I won't go. I need to be here."

Baffled, Roderich looked at him confused. "No?" he restated. "What reason do you need to stay for? I told you, I can handle it fine."

Now standing, Gilbert balled his hands into fists. "What reason? My best friend in the entire world is wounded, sick and you expect me to _leave_?" he hissed at Roderich who stared at him wide-eyed.

"The answer is no. I'm not leaving, not after what happened- what I had to do, and you most certainly can't force me," he finished with an imposing tone. I could tell from his words, that he felt guilty for performing the necessary actions that he did. He lowered himself back down to where he had sat before and stroked my hair as a calming action.

Roderich collected himself and returned Gilbert's spiteful gaze. "Fine. You may stay for tonight, but if I catch doing _anything_ out of line, I'll be sure you'll be seen right to the door. Do I make myself clear?" he stated with his aristocratic flair, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

A second, wordless glare from Gilbert was the only answer Roderich received, but was, however, enough for him to accept. Roderich paused for a moment, then stood and left the room mumbling something about making some tea. Gilbert remained quiet and stayed with me, still petting me softly, believing as if it would make my fever die down.

I don't know exactly when I finally sobccomed to my tired eyelids and fell into a deep sleep. All throughout I had agonizing reoccurring nightmares of my final ride with Sáv. Each time we would fall, each time I would try to save him a different way, but it always ended the same- with a single shot and a scream of pain.

I think I must have woken numerous times, for I recall the sounds of voices and other small gestures meant to calm me and help get over the terrible dreams. I even remember my own voice crying out for my fallen companion, though I knew it wouldn't have done any good.

There was a point where I had felt so helpless that I began to weep in sorrow after being woken once more. Against all cautions he had before, Gilbert fully embraced me and spoke softly. It pained him to see me so weak and sobbing that he couldn't stand to let me get over it by myself.

He held me there for the longest time, ignoring the icy glower from Roderich's eyes, and placed his focus towards me. "I-It's going to be alright, Liza. It really is," he murmured into my ear, hoping it would have some effect.

I said nothing, but let my continuous tears wet the front of his shirt. I disdained my lack of strength, for I am not one to cry often- let alone in front of others. Somehow, though, I felt I could do so, and neither Gilbert nor Roderich would dare judge me for it.

Some time later, I fell back into a dark, dreamless sleep. The fever had won over me for now, plaguing the night ahead with endless tossing and turning as I tried to feel at ease. The nightmares may have exhausted themselves after that evening, but it would be months before they would die out.

I cannot share with you how long I must have slept, but when I awoke, the light shining through the large windows on the eastern side of the room told me it was mid-morning. My body still felt slightly feverish, but most of the sickness had passed. The only pain I felt now was a dull ache across my whole body, presumably from the impact of the fall, as well as an almost burning sensation on my cheek where it had been bandaged and doctored by Roderich.

I glanced round the room, searching for signs of life. I found at the foot of the chaise where I lay, Gilbert had fallen asleep and was snoring peacefully. He was sitting on the floor, leaning forward onto the cushion with his arms folded under his head. Roderich, on the other hand, had dozed off in an armchair off to the side. His face was leaning against a propped up wrist on the armrest- glasses slightly falling off nose.

It was so, so quiet and I liked that. Drawing my knees to my chest in such a manner that wouldn't stir the two, I sat upwards. I stayed like this, simply watching them, for the better part of an hour before Roderich awoke, inquired to how I was feeling, and retired to straighten up.

Gilbert, however, remained exactly where he was- asleep halfway on the couch. I found it amusing really, that a single person could sleep in this long.

It wasn't until some time later that Gilbert groggily raised his head up, dazed by sleep, and muttered a few words before rising off the floor to stretch his legs out. I stayed right where I was, observing him, still hugging my knees.

He glanced over at me, with a concerned tilt of the head. "Liza, a-are you feeling better now?" he asked me, his voice sounded distant or tired, yet I could not decide which.

I nodded softly, gazing back up at him. Gilbert reached out his hand and patted my head, smoothing down my messy hair. "I should be going now," he started with his usual slight smile, "but, if you need anything, y'know, don't hesitate to come find me. Especially if you get sick of Mr. Piano-man."

Quietly, I nodded again. With a small smirk, Gilbert tousled my hair again and walked towards the door in his normal arrogant way. I sighed, mildly disappointed that my other close friend had to leave, but at least he wasn't the one gone for good.

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><p>Later, Sáv's body was recovered from the woods. I didn't want to see it, no; it would have been too much. I only asked that he be buried at his usual spot under the large tree in his paddock.<p>

Gilbert came with me the day I finally visited Sáv's grave. I lay down my stallion's freshly polished bridle across the small rise of dirt. The tears stung behind my eyes, but I wouldn't cry, not anymore.

We stood there in silence as heavy as the Earth itself. Gilbert gently squeezed my shoulder, as his own way of apologizing. It would be a long while before we turned back, a long time indeed.

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><p>Staring at the obstacle before me, I revisited those memories of not so long ago. I knew in my heart I couldn't resist, but the stallion colt below me, might just.<p>

His name was Hiú, originally something fancy in German, but I renamed him to suit his attitude. He was a gift from Roderich, hoping it would make me a little happier. He had acquired him from the Riding School in Vienna, therefore making Hiú a purebred Lipizzaner of the Maestoso bloodline.

At first, I resented Hiú and the discipline itself. It only reminded me of what I had lost. Not until under Roderich and Gilbert's constant urges did I get back in a saddle. We started out small- simple groundwork at first, then progressing to more complex drills that I trained Sáv on when he was only a colt. Hiú's talent was large, and I won't lie when I say I was impressed.

I did dream someday Hiú and I would be able to perfect our dressage, but it would not be the same if I were astride Sáv. I decided to push that thought out of my head.

Hiú was not a cross-country horse- not in the least. Though it had taken great courage to leave the ring, let alone jump, I had decided to try, just a little. Unlike my prior mount, I found that Hiú balked at just about any jump I pointed him at. As much as I admired the grace of dressage, I could not live my life without the freedom of rushing through countryside, leaping over anything that stood in my way. It made me heartbroken that he refused.

I furrowed my brow, my mind made up. Today, I decided, Hiú would learn to soar, and I be damned if he didn't.

Shortening my reins, I lifted the colt's head up from grazing, grabbing his attention. With a click of my tongue and a slight nudge of my heels, I sent him into a brisk walk, but that would not be enough.

Throwing all vigilance away, I squeezed with my knees and gave Hiú a mild poke with the spurs, and pushed my hands forward up his neck. This was a request, not an invitation.

Almost immediately, Hiú threw himself into a rigid gallop, getting closer and closer to the desired target. I pushed him on, for I required far more speed in order to successfully clear my obstacle.

Hiú caught sight of the jump, and I felt him starting to balk, but I slapped his withers with the slack of my reins and forced him on. I would not take no for an answer. Not this close.

Speeding faster and faster, and the log now almost upon us, I demanded for it. Now.

With a twinge of hesitation, Hiú tucked his forelegs beneath him, pushing off from the ground. I rose in my stirrups, balancing precariously over his neck, amazed. This…this was it.

Finally, we were soaring, and finally I knew it really would be fine. This is all I needed to move on.

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><p>Hiú touched the ground solid and pushed on at a full gallop. A smile crept up my face upon realizing that yet another fallen log off in the distance beckoned us with its even greater height. I pressed Hiú again with my heels: Challenge accepted.<p> 


End file.
